Busy, with an idea for a code, I writesignals hurrying from left to right,or right to left, by obscure routes,for my own reasons; taking a word like writesdown tiers of tries until its secret ritesmake sense; or until, suddenly, RATScan amazingly and funnily become STARand right to left that small staris mine, for my own liking, to stareits five lucky pins inside out, to storeforever kindly, as if it were a starI touched and a miracle I really wrote.